


Fruit of Love

by Epsilon_Eridani



Category: Princess Bride (1987)
Genre: Child Reader, F/M, Gen, Reader Insert, This movie is my life, idek, story time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epsilon_Eridani/pseuds/Epsilon_Eridani
Summary: Footsteps creeping closer....





	Fruit of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, wrote this out on my phone. Totally unedited. THIS IS THE SECOND FCKING TIME I HAD TO WRITE THIS I LOST THE ORIGINAL SO IF IT'S WEIRD I'M SORRY.
> 
> But shoutout to Ao3 for making this so much easier than other websites to post from mobile.

Dark and warm.

That's what you are, dark and warm.

You keep still, trying to muffle your breaths with your palm, the body next to you curls tighter around you, shielding you from what was outside of the cupboard the two of you occupy.

Quiet footsteps draw nearer, only heard by the creaking of the floorboard nearest to the hall.  Soon the footsteps are creaking steadily closer. They stop right outside of your hiding spot.

Your heart seems to stop, making you go motionless, you're sure he can hear the two of you from where he stands. The person next to you tenses as well. Soon, the footsteps resume. You let out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, the cupboard door is wrenched open, sending light flooding into the small space. Your mother is pulled out quickly. 

"Run!" She yells, struggling against the perpratratior. Frightened, you take off down the hall.

Your small feet patter down the hall, wide doe eyes searching for a new hiding spot to fit your six year old body. Loud footsteps follow behind you, mother long forgotten. 

As quickly as you can, you stoop to wriggle under the bed but it's too late by then.

"Gotcha!" A deep voice calls playfully, accompanied by large, warm hands scooping you up and holding you in the air.

You squirm when the deft fingers begin their ticklish assault on your ribs. Wriggling and laughing until tears stream down your cheeks.

"Papa! Papa! You win, stop!" You wail, still trying to get away from the relentless fingers.

"The Dread Pirate Roberts never takes survivers." The cheerful voice makes you squirm even harder.

"Darling, let her down before you drop her." Mother calls. 

"I've never once dropped her." He replies, but ceases the incessant tickling. You loop your arms around his neck. Blue eyes look into blue. You look away and huff.

"Papa, it isn't fair, you know all the hiding spots in here." You murmur and look up at him.

"Hiding with your mother isn't fair either, love." He tsks, you look away. He chuckles and carries you back into the kitchen. Mother sits, mending a pair of your leggings. Westly sets you down next to her. She looks at you.

"What adventure did you go on this time?" While your looks are from your mother, your spirit and sense of adventure. You scuff your toe against the floorboard.

"I was playing with the farm boy in town yesterday while Uncle Fezzik did his errands." You mumble. 

"It is not becoming of a young lady to go about like a ruffian." She tells you sternly, but not angrily. But Westly's eyes soften. He tilts your head toward him.

"Where is this farm boy from?" Your eyes light up.

"He and his family just moved from Glider! He wouldn't tell me his name so I had to call him farm boy." You launch into the story of the time spent with Uncle Fezzik and the boy met at the market.

Buttercup's eyes softened while she looked at the two of  her loves. How animated you are while telling your story, and how entranced Westly was with you. The clock chiming brings Buttercup out of her reverie. 

"Love, it's time for bed." She gently interjects.

"Okay Mamma" you smile at her and turn to go to the bedroom. Soon you come back dressed in a nightgown. You sit in front of her and she begins to braid your hair. 

"Papa, can you tell me the story again?" You ask eagerly. He laughs, moving to throw another log into the fire. The room is pleasantly warm when he sits back down across from You.

"This is the story of true love, and how it found a poor farmer boy and his princess bride...."


End file.
